Skill-Up: I Level from Everything!

The long night had finally faded, replaced by a day that slowly began to rise. The sun hung high in the sky, its rays piercing through the apartment window, reflecting off the floor like fragments of light dancing in silence.

A bird still perched on the plant pot out on the balcony, its beak occasionally pecking at the soil, searching for scraps of breakfast that might've been left behind.

This was how the world kept turning—without pause, without mercy. Day after day, people were thrown back into the grinding wheel of routine: working, fighting, surviving for a tomorrow that wasn't guaranteed.

Inside that apartment room, Ronan awoke. His eyes opened slowly, still lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling as if trying to remember where he was.

The clock read 09:13 a.m.

"Fuck, I'm late," he muttered quietly.

He was sure he'd set the alarm the night before. He had even gone to bed by two—not that late, by his standards. But for some reason, his body had refused to wake up that morning.

With reluctance, Ronan sat up on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his face, a light headache still lingering in his head—a side effect of sleeping too deeply.

His gaze fell to the fingers of his right hand.

The ring was still there.

Pitch black, with faint engravings that were nearly invisible unless viewed under certain lighting.